


Whatever you do, don't come looking for me.

by action_cat



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 1989, Deduction, Drowning, F/M, Gen, Kidlock, Kids, Lestrade - Freeform, London, Moriarty - Freeform, Murder, ehh a bit of fluff but i don't ship it, just trying out a few things, labratory, st.barts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 14:16:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2624852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/action_cat/pseuds/action_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young girl, a small girl is running to a pool in London in 1989. She's off to see her half-brother win at a swimming competition, but what she doesn't know is that someone got there before her, however with the same intentions.</p><p> </p><p>And that was the day she met Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever you do, don't come looking for me.

**Author's Note:**

> Terribly sorry, but I don't ship these two. Thought it would be cute to see how they met, some weird plot twists and whatnot. Anyway, John isn't in the picture yet so, well, yeah. Enjoy, loves.

The young girl walked quietly to the pool. Her straight, typical brown hair was neatly combed into two braids, they hung straight down her back. In her hand she carried a backpack, refusing to wear it as to cover up her woolen navy coat. The girl was small, and timid. She had just got off a train, walked three miles, and sneaked past the security in order to get to that pool in London. Her scuffed black shoes clicked on the tiles, and as she rounded the corner she saw three things. Unknown to the girl, the next few minutes would change her life. 

One. A small, black-hair boy was peering from one of the changing stalls. When he saw her, he scampered out and ran away.

Two. There was no one in the area except for another dark-haired boy, leaning on the pavement.

Three. He was standing around a body, the body of Carl Powers.

The girl gasped. Her bag dropped to the floor, and the boy turned his head to look at her. He had curly hair, bright blue eyes, and they narrowed the second he saw her. He motioned with his head,  _Get out! Go!_ But the timid little girl walked straight next to the strange boy, and sat down right next to him. And he was shocked, rarely any child his age defied him. But the police would be here soon, and he needed more time. The girl's big eyes looked questionably at the boy. _  
_

"Why are you looking at Carl Powers?" She asked, sitting criss-crossed on the wet tile. The boy rolled his eyes.

"Mind your own beeswax. Because I can. Go, I have work to do and you're not helping." He turned back to the body and muttered words under his breath. The girl cocked her head and looked questionably at him. He stopped mid stream and turned back to her, those bright blue eyes as cold as ice.

"What, in the name of her Majesty, are you still doing here. Ragged urchin." He added, under his breath. The girl looked at the body, taking in very little, but leaving the boy to assume she had discovered something. "What, what is it?"

"Why didn't the other boy come out and look at him? He looked like he knew you." The dark-haired boy frowned at her.

"What boy, there's no one here but-" 

The police burst through the doors, scanning the poolside area and rushing over at the children, one alive and two dead. They shouted, but the boy (alive), jumped up and ran, and the girl followed him. For one quite small, she was rather fast. The police tried to follow them, but after a few seconds the children had gotten into the alley behind the pool. The boy was breathing heavily, the girl, took out an inhaler and took a breath. 

"What did you mean about the boy? There was no one here but us." The boy sat down on a crate, and took out a notepad. He looked up questioningly at her, and gestured for her to speak.

"I saw another boy, straight black hair with pale skin. You two could've been brothers." The boy rolled his eyes and wrote it down, but there girl still had questions. "Tell me everything that you've learned from Carls' dead body, this instant. Now!" She sat down next to the boy, who sighed and crossed his legs.

"Carl Powers drowned, obviously. His lips were a dark blue, and when I opened his mouth water trickled out. Usually, this is normal, but Carl Powers, well he was a champion swimmer for his age! He shouldn't have been able to drown in that sized pool! Now luckily for me, I took his bag and look, his shoes are missing. I don't know how that relates in any way, but look, the shoes are missing. Must be important somehow." The kid scratched his head. "Why am I telling you this? I don't even know you." He jumped up and started to walk away when the girl called out.

"Wait, don't go! My name's Molly. What's yours?" The boy stopped and returned to his previous position. He squinted at Molly.

"Now then, Molly, why did you come to the pool?" He once again flipped open the notebook he had hidden inside his jacket. The girl looked down.

"I came here to watch Carl swim. He's my half-brother. Mummy told me to go and see him. His big win, she said. Didn't know he'd be dead." She sniffed a bit, and the boy rolled his eyes again.

"Well Molly, it's been charming really, but I have to go." The boy ran off, skidding to a corner. Molly craned her neck to try to look at him as he ran, which apparently he found amusing. A smile peaked at his lips. "My name is Sherlock Holmes, and don't come looking for me."

And that was time Molly saw Sherlock for a few years.

 

 

 

"So, Miss Hooper, why do you want to work here?" The man asked, glasses falling off his face. Molly, now twenty-seven, blushed nervously.

"Well, I was inspired as a child to pursue medicine after a boy figured out how another one died in front of me." She fiddled with her skirt, eyes downcast. The examiner chuckled.

"You do know that this internship may be a bit longer than most, right?" He asked, consulting over his clipboard. Molly smiled.

"I'm training to be an orthopedic surgeon, but I suppose leaning the skills as a laboratory technician would help a bit, don't you think?"  The examiner smiled. He stood up, and shook hands with her.

"Well, Miss Hooper, welcome to Saint. Bartholomews' Hospital. I'll show you where you'll be working."

"Thank you, sir!"

They traveled down the long hallway, the outside weather cloudy and grey. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, they stopped outside a door. The examiner pushed it open, and led Molly into the laboratory. 

"You'll be in here a bit." He said, looking around and spotting someone, apparently important. His eyes lit up, and he shuffled over to the man bending over a microscope. Th examiner tapped the man on the shoulder. "Mr. Holmes?"

_A dark-haired boy with a cheeky smile and a sense of importance was running away. She moved, as if to follow him, but the boy stopped and looked back, a small smile._

_"My name is Sherlock Holmes, and don't come looking for me." He had ran away, and no matter how hard she looked he hadn't turned up again. Molly had stopped looking after her mother deemed it stupid to go out running for boys. But no one remembers a face from fifteen years ago, no one. And if it was him, she would know._

"Mr. Holmes, this is Molly Hooper. She's going to have an internship here, so please don't be rude and freak her out. Have a nice day, Molly." The examiner left, leaving Molly awkwardly stranded in the lab. Mr. Holmes didn't look up. She cleared her throat.

"Um, well, hello. I'm Molly." She giggled nervously, and then set her things on a nearby table. Mr. Holmes had raised his hand in acknowledgment, but otherwise continued with his work. Molly opened a case file that was in the 'in' box, and set about looking at some pollen. She  assembled her microscope, and started to make notes. It went on like this for the rest of the day, until five. Between then, Mr. Holmes had texted quite a bit and yelled into a phone. Molly thought he was marvelous, but to others he looked mad. When the clock struck five, he grabbed his coat and went to go out the door. He was halfway out when Molly sighed, and poked his head back in.

"My condolences on your half-brother's death. Ta." And Sherlock Holmes had run off, heading off to wherever he lived. It may not be something, but Molly Hooper had found Sherlock Holmes. But what she didn't know, is that there was a reason he told her not to look for him.

 


End file.
